


Paths Ahead

by TeamGwenee



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-05 20:25:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16374461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: Two proposals Brienne rejects, and one she accepts.





	1. Chapter 1

It was strange how Brienne had fought so hard for a future she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted. Or at least, had very little idea of what sort of future she wanted. As unrelenting as those sunless days of fighting the knights of winter had been, there had been a clear enemy and focus. Her goals were obvious, should they be facing down an ice breathing dragon, or finding a safe corner to sleep in.

Now the battles of both man and monster were done, and a soldier like Brienne was of less use. Most fighters were planning their journeys home, whilst others set about building the ravaged remains of Winterfell. Day by day Brienne helped heave firewood and haul bricks, but she knew in her gut that soon she would have to venture out alone.  

Lady Sansa had also grown to suspect as much, as evidenced when out of blue she had caught Brienne’s arm and assured her that she would always be welcome at Winterfell should she so choose to remain, the sweet words releasing Brienne of her old oath. They both knew that Sansa was now as protected as anyone, and her position in Winterfell too easily filled for it to be expected for Brienne to remain any longer.

 The fact that Jaime Lannister could hardly be expected to remain in the North wasn’t overlooked either, if resolutely unsaid.

And so, the question of _‘what next?’_ began to rest heavily on her mind with an ever-growing weight. And yet, what with all the chaos that rebuilding brought, it did not occur to her that others were beginning to do the same.

The first to approach her was none other than King Jon (“Still Jon,” he had insisted, the name his true father gave him, not the stolen name of an abandoned and butchered baby). The two had conversed little, for all that they had resided together. Well, neither was the most forthcoming of people, lock them in a room together and they would end up staring at the wall until a key was located. And so, it was with a short-lived bemusement that Brienne saw the King in the North approach.

“Lady Brienne, may I have a moment?”

Brienne nodded, expecting for him to air his thoughts there and then. Instead he led her to his study and gestured for her to sit down.

“My Lady, I have a great boon to ask of you?”

Brienne raised an eyebrow. The Starks never ‘asked’ anything of her, they ordered, and she followed. She could not imagine what Jon Snow could possibly want of her to warrant this change in address.

“I’m afraid our attempts to integrate the Freefolk has been met with resistance,” Jon began, “The Northern lords do not trust that they will follow our laws. They fear there will bloodshed in the streets and that they will have their noble ladies stolen off in their sleep.”

“With all due respect your Grace, I fail to see how this relates to me. I am not a Northerner, I am not a Wildling. I have no influence with either,” Brienne pointed out.

The uneasy grin on Jon’s face sent her stomach stinking.

“The Freefolk don’t have kings or lords, but they do have leaders. They do have warriors who they respect and follow. Tormund Giantsbane-”

“Oh no,” Brienne whispered in despair.

“Is one such man. My Lords know this, and if Tormund were to set an example it would bring them great reassurance.”

“So, you are going to make him wash?” Brienne asked hopefully.

“Well…that’s not…I mean I could. If that is what you wish. But it won’t help with setting an example, most Freefolk are quite clean,” Jon mused, “I believe that Tormund’s bathing habits are a personal choice. What I am actually hoping is that….” he smiled feebly, half hope and half terror of the increasingly puce Brienne throwing him out of the window by his precious curls.

“No,” Brienne said simply, refusing to even dignify the suggestion with an argument.

“Please hear me out. Tormund is a good man,”

“I don’t want him.”

“He is one of my dearest friends,”

“I still don’t want him.”

“And he has a great respect for you.” “Does he know my name yet?” Brienne scoffed.

Jon slumped forward. “He knows it begins with a B…so there’s progress.”

Brienne raised an eyebrow. “We’re done here.”

“Please! Lady Brienne, the future of our realm depends on peace between the Freefolk and Northerners.”

“If that is true, why don’t you marry a _Northerner_ to a Wildling then?” Brienne demanded, “What good does marrying off a Southerner do for relations between the North and the Freefolk.” Brienne frowned and clenched her fists. “In fact, it almost seems as though you have decided to use your station as my King and loyalty to your family in order to push me into a marriage to a man I have shown nothing but distaste for. Simply because he is your friend!” Brienne hissed, wondering as which point she had jumped to her feet.

She took a deep, calming breath and faced King Jon, who looked very small and breakable in front of her.

“But I am sure that is not the case, and now that I have pointed out the flaws in your plan, you will let it go,” Brienne concluded.

With a perfunctory bow, she turned her back and made for the tiltyards, eager to whack a few training dummies into pieces.

“What did that poor dummy do to you?” a jovial voice asked, “Murder your father and torch your castle?”

“Don’t mock me Ser Jaime,” Brienne said gruffly, “I’m not in the mood for it.”

“I’m not mocking. I’ve always hated that dummy. Little bitch stole my horse and dishonoured my virgin cousins.” Jaime smiled and rested a hand on Brienne’s shoulder.

“At least he didn’t try to talk you into marrying the world’s most odious man by suggesting all hope of peace in the realm is dependant on my spreading my legs for his ginger friend,” Brienne spat.

Jaime eyes widened. “Well,” he said in distaste, “That was a dummy move!”


	2. Chapter 2

Brienne tugged her furs tighter around her, moving up the bench to make room for Jaime. The Lannister settled in beside her comfortably, whistling in the face of the evil eyes being shot his way. Bad enough that they actually had to share a room with the oath-breaking Kingslaying wanker, but then that Tarth brute had made it so that his arse was now planted on one of the few precious seats in the crowded hall.  

Jaime’s fingers brushed lightly against Brienne, by accident or design Brienne could not say. Either way her cheeks flared, and she fixed her eyes on the stage.

The Starks were sat in a row, Queen Daenerys and King Jon at the centre. Somehow the Dragon Queen looked tiny and dainty, swathed in her white furs. Even with Cersei dethroned, Queen Daenerys did not yet wear a crown, refusing to do so until she was seated firmly upon the Iron Throne. Or at least, that was the current consensus. This meeting had the potential of overhauling everything. For all they knew King Jon had decided to follow his later father’s wishes and take the throne himself.

Queen Daenerys’s jaw was clenched, no doubt well aware of the doubt hanging over her throne. Brienne wondered how the Queen must have felt when the news first broke. For how many years had she fought and dreamed and bargained for what she thought was her birth right, only to have her new lover step forward and take it from her.

The Starks looked none too happy either, Lady Arya in particular. Back together again after all these years, once more they faced separation.

Jaime leant forward to hiss into Brienne’s ear.

“Tyrion told me that they are announcing the division of lands, and other appointments,” he told her, “But not all are settled yet. Some are still up in the air.”

“Which ones?”

“Well the Stormlands for one.” Jaime reached under Brienne’s fur to poke her thigh, “His Grace wanted to name that blacksmith as the newest Lord Paramount, but he has little support. I suppose no one from the Stormlands wants the bastard.”

“The Northerners chose King Jon as their king when he was a bastard, and the Stormlands’ lords are no prouder than the Northerners,” Brienne whispered.

“I think their objection is less his illegitimacy and more his illiteracy.” Jaime shrugged.

Queen Daenerys rose to her feet, all voices hushed and inquisitive eyes turned to face her.

“My Lords and Ladies,” she began, “You have been summoned here on my orders so that you may hear the decisions that have been reached by the council regarding the future of my kingdom.”

“Well that answers one question,” Jaime murmured, “It looks like we won’t be having a king on the Iron Throne.”

Brienne did not tell him to be quiet as much as she hoped the elbow to his ribs conveyed the message.

Daenerys began listing the lands that would change hands or remain in their present leadership. The Westerlands was bestowed upon Tyrion and Jaime pretended not to notice as triumphant gazes came his way from those who thought he would be angered at having his birth right given to his clever little brother.

As Jaime predicted, the Stormlands went unmentioned.

“Has Lady Sansa really not told you anything about the Stormlands?” Jaime asked.

“The Starks don’t include me in politics,” Brienne said stiffly.

“Shouldn’t you be one of the first people they go to when discussing the Stormlands?” Jaime persisted.

“Be quiet, I’m trying to listen,” Brienne snapped.

With great endurance, Jaime managed remained silent for two whole minutes. Then he began to fidget and twitch.

“This has got nothing to do with us,” Jaime said, “Anything important Tyrion can tell us later. Let’s find Podrick and bash him around the training yard for a bit while we have it for ourselves.”

Brienne was tempted to agree. As Jaime said, anything that might remotely concern her could come from his little brother, without near as much pontificating. And she knew now that Jaime hated being around kings and queens too long, especially Targaryen ones. She was halfway through considering how best to make their escape before her name was called.

Jaime’s hand went out and gripped her own, his knuckles white with strain.

Brienne sat silently, waiting for Queen Daenerys to continue.

“Well Lady Brienne,” Queen Daenerys said, smiling benevolently, “Will you accept this honour and take your place as Kingsguard?”

_Kingsguard?_

Jaime’s hold on her hand grew tightened.

 _No._ Brienne thought desperately. All she could think, over and over, was _no_. That was behind her, the servitude and the bows and obedience. That part of her life, she could not go back, could not return to where she started. Whispers in the hall echoed Brienne’s own confusion, and yet there were smiles. Why did so many smile? Why did they appear pleased for her? Queen Daenerys looked as though she were bestowing some great teat upon her. King Jon looked upon her as with satisfaction, as if she were a difficult riddle newly solved. If Bienne had chosen to think ill of him, she would have suspected that he thought the ugly woman who did not jump to attention for the first man to look her way could only be hoping for celibacy.

Celibacy. That life sentence so many would condemn her to. Brienne grew keenly aware of Jaime sat beside her.

 She did not even know which one they wanted her to serve. She had no particular loyalty to the Queen, and she could not stay in the North, she could not stay in Winterfell where so many spat upon Jaime’s shadow as though his leadership did not save their lives.

Jaime’s grip hadn’t loosened. If anything, it had grown tighter.

Brienne looked to the Starks. Lady Sansa and Lady Arya both looked well pleased, although there was something hard in Sansa’s eyes as Brienne took longer to respond. More than once did Sansa’s gaze flicker towards Jaime then back. She may have accepted Brienne leaving her service, but not to join a Lannister. To see her in the Kingsguard would see her safely away from all that.

Dearest Arya looked simply overjoyed. Brienne felt a twinge of guilt that she would disappoint her so but reasoned that in merely being offered she had already done much for women like them.

“Lady Brienne,” Queen Daenerys repeated, the smile on her face growing fixed as it became clear that Brienne’s silence was not out of delighted bewilderment, but something closer to doubt, “Will you accept the post as head of my Kingsguard?”

Jaime was white and waxy beside her.

“Your Grace,” Brienne began unsteadily, only remembering to rise to her feet out of respect halfway through, “You do me an honour.”

Queen Daenerys bowed her head courteously.

“Would you allow me time to think?” Brienne requested at last.

Queen Daenerys’s smooth, pretty brow wrinkled, but she nodded, and Brienne collapsed to her seat in relief. As the conversation moved and she was once more forgotten, for now, she and Jaime wordlessly made their way from the hall.

Brienne slumped against the wall, thanking the frigid wind gushing through the windows for cooling her hot cheeks.

“How do I get out of this one?” she groaned.

“With great delicacy,” Jaime advised, leaning beside her.

Brienne turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “I saw you in the hall,” she said, “You were worried.”

“I am worried,” he corrected her, “I am worried how you will say no without offending their majesties. And the situation itself brought about some,” he stalled for words, “Unpleasant memories. But I was never worried about you accepting.”

“No?” Brienne asked, a smile returning to her face.

“Not at all,” Jaime assured her, bringing her hand to his lips, “I trust you well enough to know you will do the right thing.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed!

They may have joined forces in their loyalty to the Stark, but when they first met Ser Davos Seaworth and Lady Brienne of Tarth felt closer to enemies than allies. Now their joint stakes in the undecided future of the Stormlands welded them together, as they discovered during a short excursion beyond the walls of Winterfell. A small party had gone part way South to see how the weather fared and if it would be safe to start sending more soldiers home.

“Jon has accepted the Stormlanders are unlikely to follow Gendry,” Davos informed her as they gathered firewood. “Especially when they only have our word that he is Robert Baratheon’s son.”

“Lord Estermont still lives,” Brienne mused, “And he was kin to the Baratheons. Although the Dondarrions and Selmys are stronger powers… or _were_ last I heard. I would have thought one of the Marcher Lords definitely, and Lord Beric and Ser Barristan both died in their Majesties’ service.”

“Aye, they died, and little is known of their descendants’ loyalties,” Davos said gruffly, “Queen Daenerys wants someone they can personally trust. She may have to visit the Stormlands herself before she can make a choice.”

“But that could be months away,” Brienne protested, “Years even. They cannot be left vulnerable so long, not when every other House has clear leadership!”

“Another name was mentioned,” Davos told her quietly.

“Yours?” she suggested.

“Jon did make some mumblings along those lines,” Davos said with a shake of his head. “But I put a stop to that smartly. Unlike young Gendry I don’t even have Stormlands blood in my veins. I was a born a vagrant on the streets of Flea Bottom. I have no armies nor vassals to seize control, just a knightly house tucked away in a forest.”

“You would be better than most,” Brienne insisted, “None can doubt your integrity, nor your competence.”

Davos gave Brienne a fatherly smile. “You flatter me my Lady, but in truth I am tired of politics. As soon as the snow thaws I shall return to my little Keep and spend what years I have left peacefully with my wife. That is, if she lets me in. Marya may very well pull up the drawbridge and order the guards to fill me with arrows on first sight. I have been away for a long time and my correspondence has been…lacking.”

“Mine also,” Brienne admitted, “I have no idea what he will say when-if I returned to Tarth.”

“Judging by what I would do if the child I had not see from years appeared at the end of a very long and very bloody war,” Ser Davos said, “I would suspect Evenfall Hall to be flooded with Lord Selwyn’s tears of joy.”

Brienne scoffed and shook her head. “My father is not exactly one for tears.” She caught sight if Ser Davos looking at her from the corner of his eye. “It was not my father’s name they suggested, was it?”

“No, but closer.” Ser Davos placed a hand on Brienne’s shoulder. “It was yours.”

Brienne started to a halt, her gathering of wood sent clattering to the ground.

“Me? Who would suggest me?” she demanded.

“I did,” Davos said lightly, “And was closely seconded by Lord Tyrion.”

“Why?” she hissed.

“Because you have proven yourself worthy in every way,” Davos said calmly, “Your courage, dedication, sacrifice. Your leadership in battle. If I were to chose anyone to be my new Liege Lady, it would be you.”

With Brienne still struck dumb, Davos continued. “And I know the Tarth name and House is respected within the Stormlands.”

“My father is, my House is. I am not,” Brienne insisted.

“So you believe, but I am not the only Stormlander who has grown impressed with your courage and integrity.”

Brienne shook her head. “What did the others say about this?”

“King Jon saw the wisdom in it. Queen Daenerys was less enthralled, I believe she still hopes for you to join her Kingsguard,” Davos replied, “They nearly came to blows over it.”

“Over me?” she asked incredulously.

“Well…they’ve been coming to blows over everything,” Davos admitted. “I think that’s why Jon volunteered to lead this mission.”

Brienne grimaced. “So it’s definitely over between them then?”

“It was never going to last, their lives have always been going on separate paths,” Davos sighed.

Brienne felt a twinge of sadness. For two people to meet the one they loved on crossroads, only to have to keep on walking passed. She knew that feeling all too well.

Jaime was waiting for her back at the camp.

“And the Starks?” she prompted, “What of their ladyships?”

“Lady Arya approved, Lady Sansa less so.” Davos lowered his voice. “She is quite anxious for you to either remain at Winterfell or else join Queen Daenerys’s service. She fears what you may do and whose arms you may fall into if you do not.”

Brienne knew all too well what Sansa feared. For the Starks’ formerly most loyal servant to break her vow and fall in with the Kingslayer, it would not look well. But if Brienne ever had that chance for happiness, she found now that she could not give it up. Not even for Sansa.

~

The party made camp at and deserted inn. The place was in shambles, ransacked by those fleeing South. Wood had been wrenched from the walls and floor boards, and cold gusts of wind came blustering through. Two beds were left and as Ser Davos and Lady Brienne made themselves useful outside, the remaining set about seeing to the horses, looking for food and squabbling over the beds that had been dumped in the centre of the inn’s common room.

Jon made to lay claim to one bed, but the Hound shoved him aside and made himself comfortable, silently daring anyone from challenging him. Podrick knew he had no chance and set about making himself a nest in the warmest corner, and Jon would have tried for the other bed had Ser Jaime and Tormund not already been close to drawing blood over it.

“It’s just like you soft, pretty Southerners.” Tormund sneered. “Can’t take it like a man and rough it on the floor.”

Jaime nodded, poison behind his charming smile. “You are right. I am a soft, pampered Southerner. Not a great, hardy soldier like you. Please let me keep the bed. I am so frail.”

“It’s true,” Pod put in, “I heard Lady Brienne complaining about it.”

Tormund’s ears perked up. He was still hoping his giant warrior lady would come around to Jon’s request, and be in his bed before Spring.

“Well, take the bed if you’re so feeble. I can take it on the floor,” he boasted.

Jaime settled onto the bed with pleasure, only bothering to strip off his boots. The rest of the party made do, grumbling as Jaime not only marked the bed for himself, but the strip of floor beside it. The precious few hours of light were nearing their last by the time Brienne and Davos returned, frozen stiff and arms weighed down with wood.

Soon a fire was lit and Davos was thankfully slumbering beside it.

“Lady Brienne!” Jaime called, “I have saved you the bed.”

Brienne smiled gratefully and sunk down into the thin mattress as Jaime gallantly stood and made himself comfortable on the floor beside her.

“Thank you, Ser Jaime,” Brienne whispered softly, “That was good of you.”

Jaime gave her a smile, and then gave another, very different smile to Tormund, who watched with a glower and a flush that matched his tangled beard.

“Chivalry, my friend,” he murmured, “Simple chivalry.”

#

“Have you decided how you will reject the Queen’s proposal?” Jaime asked Brienne as they tended to their horses the next morning.

“I will just have to tell her straight,” Brienne said, running a brush all over her appreciative mount. “I am the last of my family, I am sure she will understand that.”

Jaime smiled over the back of his saddle. “And you are giving much thought to the future of your line, then are you?”

Brienne narrowed her eyes and spoke in a brusque voice. “I am giving much thought to my future, and that is all.”

“And what do you see in your future?” Jaime patted his horse and strode around. “And more importantly; because it concerns me, who?”

He stood next to her, the mist of his breath brushing her cheek. She went on grooming her horse, steadfastly ignoring Jaime’s hand placed tenderly on her elbow.

“King Jon has been dropping hints of my joining the Night’s Watch,” he blurted out.

“What?” Brienne spluttered, “How could…surely…please tell me you won’t!”

“Peace, I have no intention of accepting” Jaime said, a note of laughter in his voice. “You do me a great wrong my Lady. I trusted you well enough not to fitter your life away in a wretched institution. Why would I condemn myself to one where the futility is the same and the weather is worse?”

The grip on her heart eased and she nodded.

“Good,” she said.

“Very good.” Jaime agreed. “Or else how would I ensure the future of _my_ line?”

His arm was around her waist now, his chin on her shoulder. Brienne could not be sure, but she suspected he was trying to tell her something.

“There has been talk of another proposition,” she stammered.

“They wish to make you Lady of the Stormlands,” Jaime stated.

Brienne broke away from his grip and glowered down at him. “You knew? Let me guess, Lord Tyrion told you. And you kept it secret, were you ever planning on telling me?”

“No one told me,” Jaime hissed, before taking a breath and placing his hand on her arm. “I have been waiting for you to be offered the role ever since the council meetings began. I am frankly insulted on your behalf that it took so long.”

Brienne swallowed and nodded.

“I would be hopeless,” she muttered.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Jaime shrugged. “But the country has made do with helpless rulers before. Worst come to worse, you will still be an improvement.” He placed a hand on her cheek. “It’s a challenge Brienne, the question is, are you willing to accept it?”

Brienne jerked her head away and looked over Jaime’s shoulder.

“Snow drops,” she mumbled, taking in the tiny white flowers poking out between patches of melted snow.

Jaime turned and took in the dainty white bud. His eyes twinkled and with a grin, he gathered a small handful and gallantly proffered them to Brienne with a bow. Hesitantly, Brienne took the crumpled bouquet, ridiculously small in her large hand.

“Just forgetting titles and duties and the realm for a moment,” Jaime whispered, running his hand down Brienne’s back, “What do you want? What will make you happy?”

“I haven’t thought of my happiness in a long time,” Brienne confessed.

“Well I’ve been thinking of it a great deal,” Jaime said hoarsely, “I have been thinking non-stop of all the ways I would make you happy.”

“Jaime?” Brienne asked.

“If you let me, I think I could make you happy. If you would just give me a chance,” Jaime pleaded.

“Jaime.”

“Yes?” Brienne closed her eyes and blindly reached for Jaime’s hand, only speaking once it was firmly wrapped round her own.

“I want you. I think you would make me happy and whatever happens next I want you in my life, by my side.” Brienne opened her eyes, to see Jaime’s own eyes creased and sparkling.

“You know what?” Jaime wrapped Brienne in his arms and pressed his lips to her cheek. “That sounds like a bloody good idea.”


End file.
